Angel with a Shotgun
by kgreen9748
Summary: Song fic.


Angel With a Shotgun

By Kg9748

A/N: This is songfic, not my usual cup of tea, but thanks to Quietfireca's wonderful fandvid I was inspired. This is a reconstructed version of a thing I wrote before my computer crashed. Credit to the Cab for song. Lyrics here are excerpted:

…Get out your guns, battle's begun are you a saint or a sinner?

If love's a fight then I shall die with my heart on the trigger.

They say before you start a war you better know what you're fighting for

Well baby you are all that I adore. If love is what you need a soldier I will be

I'm an angel with a shotgun fighting 'til the war's won.

I don't care if heaven won't take me back.

I'll throw away my faith babe just to keep you safe.

Don't you know you're everything I have.

And I want to live not just survive tonight.

Sometimes to win you've got to sin, don't mean I'm not a believer.

And Major Tom will sing along, yeah they still say I'm a dreamer.

They say before you start a war you better know what you're fighting for

Well baby you are all that I adore. If love is what you need a soldier I will be.

I'm an angel with a shotgun fighting 'til the war's won

I don't care if heaven won't take me back.

I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe.

Don't you know you're everything I have

And I want to live not just survive tonight….

And I want to fold my wings tonight….

"Who you got down there, Carter—the Angel of Death?" (Pilot)

The first thing that got my attention was the smell. He had been on the street for awhile, that's for sure. But the second thing was his eyes. They were world weary, but intelligent and somewhat amused, I swear. The only time he spoke was to respond to my question about his name. Not that he gave me his name. Other than that comment and question, "Am I in trouble?" (which frankly he didn't seem very worried about) he had nothing to say. But he didn't come across as your typical street person. His speech was clear and his voice was well modulated. I know my way around an interrogation, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he was in control of the interview and wasn't taking it entirely seriously.

Once we ran his prints and all the warrants on him started popping up it was clear this was no "ordinary" bum, but by that time a high priced lawyer had bailed him out and before I could get to him he was climbing into a town car with a couple of big guys. We put out a bolo on him without success. If he was still in the city he had changed his appearance or had returned to one of the homeless encampments. Still, somehow I felt that we hadn't seen the last of him.

"Am I in trouble?" (Pilot)

I knew as soon as I grabbed that kid that it was a mistake, but I couldn't seem to help myself. I never lost control like that before I fell into the bottle. Just another piece of who I used to be gone missing.

She came into the room all loose hair and big eyes. She did "good cop" well. I could tell she was an expert interrogator, probably ex-military. I wasn't so addled by alcohol that she fooled me with the fingerprints on the cup routine when she offered me water. I actually wanted to see what she would do, where this would go once they ran the prints. If they turned me over to the CIA I knew I was dead, but killing myself with booze was taking too long and I was having a hard time giving a shit anymore.

But once the ball started rolling, things got stranger and stranger. A high priced lawyer in a high priced suit showed up to bail me out and two big guys met me at the curb and ushered me into a big black car. It was daybreak before we pulled up on the far side of the river and I met my savior. A little guy in another expensive suit with weird hair met me and proceeded regale me with a good deal of my biography which he shouldn't have been able to access. I still hadn't decided whether I was in trouble or not.

When he took me back downtown and gave me a cock and bull story about a "list" and stopping crimes before they happened I pegged him as a rich guy with too much time on his hands. Either that or he was loonier than some of those folks I had rubbed shoulders with in the homeless encampment. I left him with his goons on the street. First order of business, change my appearance to throw the cops off. I bought myself a room in a flophouse with the last of my cash where I could shower, shave and cut my hair. Then I managed to get drunk enough to pass out.

I woke up tied to the bed in an upscale hotel room. And the little weird guy was on the phone and then all hell broke loose next door. Getting loose and breaking down the door was no problem, I was acting on instinct. And there he was with a wiretap tape he had no business having. I was pissed as hell, but he had gotten my attention. And piqued my curiosity: I did a little digging and found that he was further off the grid than I had been on the street. I figured what the hell—if I was off the street I was going to need a job and God knows I had no other offers on the table. I'd hang around for awhile and see what happened. And I still hadn't decided whether I was in trouble or not.

"Let me guess—a guy in a suit." (Ghosts)

My hunch that I hadn't seen the last of him was dead on. Right away I started hearing about a guy in a suit causing minor mayhem. The guy from the street had changed his appearance and was now roaming around town playing vigilante. There were no bodies piling up, but the number of punks and bad guys that were kneecapped in incidents with "a guy in a suit" was exploding. Guys at the cop shop started calling him "your guy" and that's how I started thinking of him. He started showing up at potential crimes and intervening. Sometimes we would arrive at a crime scene to find the perp "packaged" for us, complete with incriminating evidence.

Then he started communicating with me. He called me at work and offered to meet. I was elated, but it was a false alarm. There was only a girl wearing his suit coat who said "her friend" told her she could trust me. I had lots of questions, but got only evasions.

Eventually bodies did begin showing up. There was a major shootout connected with the theft ring made up of ex-military using military hardware. I wasn't convinced that my guy was the shooter, even though I was certain he was involved somehow. It didn't seem like his style. I was able to make radio contact with him and tried to talk him into giving himself up before any more people, including him, were hurt or killed. I got clever banter, but no cooperation and no answers.

When the old German guy in the park was shot I knew it was "my guy". I couldn't condone the shooting even though it probably prevented another homicide or two that had followed the guy's path through town that day. And in addition to my concern for public safety I started wondering how he knew to show up where and when he did. Where was he getting his information?

"How did you know I would shoot?" "Because you're a soldier, like me." (Foe)

Once a soldier always a soldier. Once a spook always a spook. That training never goes away. Neither do the nightmares. I don't like killing people, even though I'm very good at it. At least he didn't die alone where no one knew his name. I should be so lucky.

In addition to my "regular" work with the numbers I've been keeping track of Carter and her movements. I even went so far as to warn her about the contract Elias had upon her and was vigilant and fortunate enough to be there when she was shot. It felt good to be able to do something to save her. Maybe took away a little of the pain over not being in time for Jessica.

I'm going to have to deal with her eventually. She's still after me. Frankly it was fun for awhile but the thrill of the chase is gone. She is one persistent lady in addition to being a straight arrow. If I could get her to bend a little I could use her as a source. Besides, she's a lot of fun to flirt with.

"You're not alone." (Get Carter)

Damned if he didn't save my life. Now what do I do? I can't let him keep wreaking havoc, but it's a good feeling to hear him say I'm not alone. I've been alone so long in so many ways. Even though I didn't get a look at his face I would have known that voice anywhere. Sometimes I hear it in my dreams.

I'm having a hell of a time bringing him in. Maybe it's time to cooperate with Snow. He's a smarmy guy but he says he's a friend of my guy and it's probably for his own good that he's picked up. I've made it alone this far. How ironic that it's a guy on the wrong side of the law who says he has my back.

So how do I thank this guy for saving my life? I get him shot. I swear I had no idea that Snow and his crony would shoot him down like a dog. When I saw the two of them together a lot of things fell into place. Almost makes me wonder if I've been fighting on the wrong side all this time. Now that I've seen him I've got to meet him and see what he has to say for himself. Maybe I can finally get some answers.

"Once you go down that road there's no looking back."


End file.
